21 September 03
Waffles and Crosswords
Today was really lazy—gearing up for the week. We used to make pancakes on Sundays, before the Achilles incident. Today we actually took ourselves out to breakfast to Cafe Bernardo, where we had waffles (with pecan butter), spilled tea, and read the paper. We also managed a quick trip next door to Newsbeat, where I was able finally to browse all kinds of magazines I’ve been missing. I feel as though I’m emerging a bit from my cave.
A few weeks ago a friend brought over a book of Sunday crossword puzzles, “slightly easier than the New York Times.” She had suffered an injury herself a few years before and knew it was hard to concentrate on reading for hours at a stretch. I must confess to a new and sort of shameful addiction here. They’re easy enough almost to finish each one, and there are so many blank ones left I don’t feel pressure to finish anyway. Some of them are better than others; there are multiple authors. I’m definitely getting a sense of the personalities of the different authors by now.
14 September 03
Go Forth Into The Land North Of Putah Creek
We went on two outings today north into Yolo County today, both of them auspicious.
The first was going on a bicycle ride together! Given that we’re both still members of the walking wounded, it was a joyous thing to be out and about on bicycles again. This was something of a dry run for Pica cycling to work this week: we cycled into campus to pick up the Sunday newspaper. Pica led on her trike Lila and I followed on my hybrid named Red Dragon. It was neither a long or speedy trip (four miles round trip) but it’s great to be doing things by bike again.
The second was travelling to Woodland to attend an interfaith Celebration of Abraham. This was put on jointly by members of the Jewish, Christian, and Muslim communities in the Davis and Woodland area. The celebration, which featured prayers, music and readings about Abraham from all three faiths, was held in the gym of the Holy Rosary Community Center up in Woodland. It was a packed event, with perhaps 400 people in attendence, from both Davis and Woodland. The event was introducted by Randy Ros, an attorney from Lodi who has been instrumental in organizing the gatherings, first in Lodi and then in several other towns in the Central Valley. We closed out the ceremony by washing hands and breaking bread together. It’s wonderful to live where there are enough interested people to make such a gathering possible, and I hope that this marks the start of a long tradition of interfaith celebrations, rather than just a one-time event.
13 September 03
Scrutinizing White Privilege
For the past two days I was participating in a diversity workshop run by the campus. Though it was not specifically about race, this culture is organized very much along racial lines, a racial hierarchy that includes class and other elements. Race was therefore an important topic over the two days.
The thing I learned most forcefully: that there will always be more to learn.
Owning up to, and acknowledging, the privileges that are mine because of my skin color is painful. I can rent or buy a house, I can expect to drive anywhere without being stopped by the police, I can shop in the market without being followed, I will be innocent until proven guilty: these things I take for granted; I don’t even notice them. My brothers and sisters of color do not experience life like this. They fear for their children’s safety on a constant basis. They experience much more subtle racism than perhaps their parents did, but they experience it all the time. Every day. The stories I heard made my skin crawl.
Another thing I learned is that there is not much impetus for the dominant culture—i.e. the culture that looks like me—to change. We have it too good. Any requests for a reconsideration of our position on the part of people of color are likely to be met with incomprehension, incredulity, or ridicule. “We’re bending over backwards,” the standard line runs. “We’re doing what we can. But we can only do so much…”
I believe we can do more, we whites who are tired of the way things are. We can encourage those around us to look at these things in a new way. It involves a lot, mostly the acknowledgement that the privilege we have is unearned and undeserved. That the fear we have, collectively, is mostly fear of the unknown, and the unknown can be learned about. It’s an opportunity we have. I believe our world can be richer for it. And I believe the consequences of not doing this will be disastrous.
30 August 03
Getting Moving Again
Yesterday was my first visit to the physical therapist’s since my injury. The doctor was a little worried I was getting started too early, but I assured him I’d be in good hands—this guy was recommended to me by a colleague who had had a similar injury who just raved about him.
It was exhilarating: not only was I told I was putting about 2 pounds on my foot (as opposed to the 20 or 30 the doctor said I could: how can you measure this kind of thing?), but I was able to produce some measurable flexing, which gave him a baseline from which to proceed. After about an hour he said okay, let’s get you on the stationary bike—right leg only.
It’s been a few weeks now since I did anything physical that caused me to sweat, but heavens it felt good! I’m really looking forward to this now. He’s going to work on strengthening the rest of my body so I’m better able to compensate for the left achilles, and upper body strength is a priority too. I am all fired up, ready to take this on, grateful my sister-in-law urged me to push for early PT intervention.
27 August 03
Sunset With Cam Walker
A homage to Coup de Vent. Pica watches the sunset from her reclining chair in front of the house.
26 August 03
Have Cam Boot, Will Travel (Some)
Being able to put a tiny amount of weight on my left foot is better than none at all, but it doesn’t mean I’m able to start turning cartwheels yet by any means—or even getting myself a cup of tea. (Crutches are NOT GOOD for carrying anything that can spill.) After a minor meltdown about this last night, I’m feeling a lot better today, and have begun to resign myself to the fact that this really is going to take a long time. Today I had to beg off a bus ride into Sacramento next month because I have no idea how I’d get onto a bus with crutches unless I sat on the bottom step and edged in backwards like a crab, which even I’d balk at, having done enough to sacrifice my dignity this year already.
I’m boring even myself with all this talk of infirmity, so I’d like to urge everyone on down to check out the fabulous Doc Rock at WriteOutLoud, who is dodging desert thunderstorms and articulately bemoaning the state of the teaching profession, all the while wielding a machete.
Finally, I just started reading Michael Lewis’ Moneyball, a wonderfully entertaining account of the paradox of poor baseball clubs and their strategies for selecting winning players—against all the traditions of this tradition-laden sport.
24 August 03
Baby Steps
My world has been diminutive the last two weeks—the sofa, the bedroom, the bathroom. A big outing involves going outside to sit down and watch the birds and the trains. I have to say I’ve been well spoiled by lots of people, not the least of whom is my new husband (who has managed to throw his back out; it’s like the walking wounded in here).
All this is likely to change tomorrow. I get my sutures out (hooray—they are itching like crazy). If all goes according to plan, I exchange my plaster cast for a Cam walker, and start putting tiny amounts of weight on my left foot, which will increase progressively as the leg gets its strength back. I start seeing the Physical Therapists. And I’m going back to work.
I may not last all day for a while—being on crutches is still exhausting me. It’s going to be strange to leave this little space I’ve confined myself to and interact, as if it were normal, with the world again.
Being taken out of action like this is a really good reminder that lots of people can’t walk—ever. Not properly, not without help. I’ve been given an opportunity to see what that must be like. It will have been only two weeks since I’ve had a real shower! A friend brought over a copy of Frida for me to watch, and I wondered a lot about showers and such things as I was watching it…
22 August 03
Cabin Fever
We had no power all day—the thunderstorms Numenius mentioned yesterday continued all night and knocked out a lot of the county. For us, this means no water either, since we’re on a well with an electric pump.
I finished a colored pencil drawing of what I’m spending lots of hours looking at these days from my sofa, inspired by Beth’s recent watercolor and intrigued by the challenge of how to render transparent fabric. It’s moderately what I was looking for. The colors aren’t quite right, but I think the values almost are.
We’ve been enjoying the pleasure of the company of a MacGillivray’s warbler the last two days in the rosebushes and oleander—this is an unusual bird to have in one’s yard! Fall migration is definitely underway here in the Central Valley.
20 August 03
Fellow Achilles Sufferer…
In June of this year a piece of mine was published in Faultline. The subject was the competition for the design of the California quarter (twenty-five cent piece) and the invitation by the hapless governor for Californians to vote for their favorite. Tied to the article were cartoons by Keith Knight depicting alternative suggestions for the quarter design.
Well, as many of you know I snapped my Achilles tendon on my wedding day, August 10, a week ago Sunday, and I’m recuperating from surgery—slowly.
Chris Clarke, Faultline’s editor, noticed that Keith had suffered the same injury on August 12. We are all three in shock at the news and Keith and I are comparing stories about narcotic painkillers. Keith wasn’t getting married, he was playing tennis, but he was celebrating his first wedding anniversary. He has a funny strip about this which you can see on salon.com (if you don’t subscribe you’ll be subjected to a million annoying popups; beware).
19 August 03
Tufte On Powerpoint
As long as we are ranting about various pieces of Microsoft Office, it’s time to recommend reading Edward Tufte’s recent essay The Cognitive Style of Powerpoint. As somebody who has lived through far too many Powerpoint presentations, I am appreciative that Tufte has taken on the fundamental cognitive limitations of talks given using Powerpoint (or, to be fair, other but similar presentation software). Such a style has become a clich, and I am thankful whenever somebody eschews slides for notes on a chalkboard. As Tufte points out, you can put far more information on a printed handout than in a set of Powerpoint slides, so why not pass out the handout and actually engage your audience in conversation? My worst Powerpoint peeve is gratuitous use of animation: I will automatically give anybody who uses animated text fade-ins 15 demerits.